Davian: A minstrel's tale
by Smiling Madman
Summary: The dark story of the false dragon Davian as told by a minstrel. Accepting all reviews. Chapter five is up.
1. Intro and Prologue: A minstrel for Gawyn

Disclaimer: I do not own anything; my clothes are borrowed, my computer stolen. So it's obvious I don't own Wheel of Time.

     I have wanted to write this story for a long while, for many reasons. First was an idea I had in mind for the past few years, but with no outlet. I had no specific world to create it in and every time I attempted to make one it turned out bland. I chose the world of wheel of time and decided to base it on a male channeler. I wanted to do Raolin Darksbane, but I could not find the information I wanted or maps on the era. I then went for Guire Amalason but it seems he lost every single battle he ever faced against Artur Hawking, I could not have that. Plus it was too recent, I would be restricted in creativity.

     Then I realized throughout the entire series they make no mention of Davian other than he was a false dragon, so I snatch up the idea. It is a false dragon, the perfect era, with very little information so I can create my own backgrounds as I am used to. 

     I then and began to write an opening, yet it was simply horrid. I abandoned the idea. After coming up with the minstrel idea for an RP I never made I restarted work on this. I have a good idea of how the entire story will go and I promise you it will have a stellar storyline and (hopefully) interesting characters.

     Just a few things to note: I do not pretend to be a skilled writer; all my writing ability comes from RPs so there may be mistakes. For those, I apologize. If there are any plot-holes, misspells, or inconsistencies with Wheel of Time than please point them out. The prologue turned out rather poorly as all my prologues do but I believe it is coherent. Future chapters will be much better. This is my first fanfic on fanfiction.net so there may be formatting errors. For those, I also apologize. Also you will find my writing is slower than I would prefer. For that, I apologize. Most chapters will be around 1000 words give or take a hundred. Please Read and Review, or flame if you wish. Whichever you choose I thank you. It is nice to know that people are actually reading so I'm not wasting my time with typing out each mini-chapter. 

     And without further delay, I present to you Davian: A Minstrel's Tale

* * * * *

     In FY 351 there was a false dragon who went by the name of Davian. Whether he had a last name or not is unknown, as there is little knowledge of him at all. Even the date is in question, skeptics claim it is off by at least six years. A few of the more fanatical researchers make the argument that his name wasn't even Davian, and that the White Tower simply bestowed him the alias after he died. 

     Ah but why do they cover up evidence of him? Why would they destroy documents on his life? Why shroud the long years surrounding his birth and death with mystery? A few of the stupidest claim that the Aes Sedai simply hated him because he could channel, but the well informed have more sophisticated theories. One of the cleverest is also the least known, for the White Tower despised and condemned the very notion. It is known in Tar Valon that Aes Sedai lost much of their knowledge during the Trolloc wars, including where the seals on the Dark One's prison are hidden. Spells were lost, histories were lost, Angreals were lost, Ter'Angreal as well. Ah, but the Trollocs never reached the shining walls, and how could they lose the positions of the seals? The Aes Sedai won't even tell how the Amyrilin died, or when for that matter. They walk around the truth as they are wont to do. If the Trollocs and Myrddraal didn't break the tower, perhaps a false dragon could.

     Some extremists speculate that the Trolloc wars were simply an invention of the Red Ajah, not wanting to admit the entire White Tower had been ruined by a Male Channeler, that they could not defeat him without suffering humiliating losses. Unlikely perhaps, but nonetheless a favorite of discussion in taverns. 

     Countless theories arise, that Davian was the true dragon, that it was he who tainted saidin. Another is that he was Shai'tan himself. Yet with all the time commoners may spend concentrating on the mystery behind him, for all they may muse over his life, not a single theory has any factual basis. It is this which truly makes discussions exciting. People make up their own tales of his rise, and thus legends are born and the story of Davian endures. 

**The Throne Room of Andor: Date Unknown, Late NE**

     The minstrel strummed his harp, making a sad yet pretty scale. He was a handsome man, short light blonde hair and smooth features made him look almost like a woman. His hands were deft and agile. He wore loose, white garb that an angel might wear.

     The doors were closed in the royal court; the Queen Morgase was seated on her regal throne, smiling as her son looked up eagerly at the minstrel. Today there would be no interruptions; the Queen had been worried that there was too much work for Gawyn with his newfound duty to protect his newborn sister with his life. She wanted him to relax, today was for him.

     The minstrel was on a plain yet comfortable wooden chair. Gawyn was on the stone floor, sitting cross-legged. Still, he seemed quite content. Numerous others were there as well, the Queen's older son, Galad, a fellow court bard by the name of Thom Merrilin. Several other minor Lords and Ladies were there, but not worth noting. The minstrel smiled sadly, such a small child Gawyn already had the responsibility of an adult on his shoulders.

     "So what kind of a tale would you like to hear, Gawyn? Does anything suit your fancy?" The minstrel asked kindly.

     "I want to hear about Aes Sedai." He said eagerly.

     "Ah. Perhaps one of the many adventures of Cadsuane Melaidhrin? Or a tale of the two Amyrlins?" 

     "Those are for children." Gawyn pouted. "Tell me something scary!" 

     "Would you prefer the breaking of the world? The Aiel War?" 

     "I know all those ones from Thom already. I want something new!" 

     It may have been how much pity he felt for the boy. It may have been that he simply wished to show his prowess in front of such a legendary bard as Thom Merrilin. But whatever it was the minstrel decided on the one tale he was sure no one else knew.

     "Very well, I will tell you of the male channeler Davian." Those in the court seemed mildly surprised. The bard, sitting to the queen's right, became annoyed and tugged on his mustache. 

     "Thom says that all the stories of the False Dragon are made up." Gawyn's tone left no room for argument, but nonetheless the minstrel argued.

     "Ah, but this is the _true story of Davian. I may be the only man alive who knows it."_

     The child's eyes widened and Merrilin sat up straight, suddenly interested. Everyone else was still simply bored, though they tried to hide it. Fictional stories were for the lowly taverns, not fit for Andor's royal court. The minstrel simply ignored them. He strummed a choice section from 'March of Death' as he began.

     "Very well, listen close young one, for you may never hear this tale again; it all started in Darmovan, FY 347." And so began the minstrel's tale.  


	2. Chapter One: Souring of relations

Disclaimer: See Intro/Prologue

Here's the second part, the third may take a couple days longer to get up so deal with this one for a while. It's a bit more fasat-paced than I wanted but oh well I truly despise to keep you waiting. Continue to R&R/flame. 

White-wolf2: Thank you very much, I'm flattered. I hope you enjoy the next chapter, I tried to get it done as quick as possible, I haven't gone over it thoroughly so it could have a few errors but I think I got most of them out with a quick scan of it. 

Merit Somnia: Ah yes, now I remember. My apologies, yet it isn't a major part of the story so I will not fix it until I stop being lazy. Don't worry; I'm sure you'll find a major screw up soon enough in my haste. 

* * * * *

     The throne room of Darmovan was a majestic sight. The exceptionally high ceiling was old cobblestone, yet still sturdy after all these years. The walls were built of the same rock, but on them hung tapestries depicting the triumphs of the country's army during the Trolloc wars. Aes Sedai were on many as well, two of which portrayed Raolin Darksbane bowing his head before one of the Green Ajah. The throne itself was iron mixed with gold to give it a marbled look. A brilliant scarlet carpet was laid out as a walkway from to it from the massive doorway. 

     The King had sat on his royal chair for nine hours straight. Hearing pleas, listening to propositions, waiting on arrogant ambassadors, it was very tiring. All of them eventually left, and as the sun set after a seemingly endless day and the entire world became enveloped in a dark orange glow the messenger gone diplomat he was waiting for finally arrived.

     Roland Hasfin was a wiry young man. His hands were continuously quaking and sweating. His beady black eyes appeared tormented. Mussed up black hair was going off every which way, much of it hanging down on his face. His spindly legs did not seem as if they could hold of the weight of it. And so Roland stumbled up to the throne and bowed on one knee. The King tapped his fingernails against the armrest impatiently as Roland fished out a scroll from his loose, ragged clothes.

     "You're late. You were due early this morning, because of _you_ I had to undergo another day of listening to fools looking for handouts of gold. My ass is sore and my head aches." The King said testily.

     "Well you see my lord I was just slightly delayed on my leave to the—"

     "Stop lying to me Roland you know I hate it when you lie. Don't bother with it now, what news from Tar Valon?"

      Roland hummed a song to himself as he always did when nervous and uneasy. _The fairest of maidens once kissed me so sweet, do de dum da de do_

     "Dammit Roland, cease that incessant noise and just get on with it." 

     Roland coughed to buy himself time. He had rehearsed what he was going to say countless times in his head, but trying to recall them his mind drew up a blank. The King's wrath was always a terrible thing to face.

     "Well you see my lord, perhaps I will just leave this here for you to look over later…" 

     "You would deny your king's request?"

     "No no! It's just that—" 

     "You thought you knew better than me? There is a reason you do not rule Darmovan Mr. Hasfin. I may tolerate you but if you disrespect me with your bumbling any more than I will be forced to have you arrested and thrown in the dungeons." 

     Roland grimaced, and with that threat burned into his mind the honeyed words he had memorized came bubbling up his throat. 

     "I bring word from the ever-treacherous White Tower. They have _demanded that you allow two of their vile witches to accompany you at all times, also they _demand _you allow them to scour your city wi—"_

     "Shai'tan take them all!" The air seemed to vibrate at the very word. The King took no notice of it. "Why must we be humiliated like this? Darmovan has always been allies with the Aes Sedai, we turn out three times the channelers as the other nations!" 

     "That is one of the problems m-m-my lord. They believe that with so many women channeling a problem with men could develop, several of the Red Ajah will arrive here soon; they should be a w-w-week behind me but with Aes Sedai who knows? I rode as hard I as could though, my lord, so I could give you time to prepare. I do not think they could catch up with me." In reality that was a half truth, Roland certainly didn't think they could have caught up with him, but he had ridden as hard as he could because Aes Sedai scared the shit out of him. 

     "What are the other problems they have? Speak quickly, boy."

     "Well prob**lem actually, they are hoping every realm will soon have the witches advising and manipulating them, though they didn't use those exact w-words. They hope to start with you so it may influence others to allow them to enter their countries…with your past friendship with Tar Valon you were an ideal initial ruler…"**

     The king nodded almost absently. He had regained his composure far quicker than Roland had expected. Usually he would throw something or bellow out curses for an hour. But his liege was hardly a predictable man. The ruler of Darmovan got a distant look in his eyes as he sat unmoving. Seconds passed, minutes. Roland was afraid to move. Abruptly the King shook his head and blinked.

     "My lord…?"

     "Yes, Roland?"

     "What do you propose to do about the Red Ajah? Shall I write them a note denying them passage? It will likely reach their ears in time." The king looked taken aback at that.

     "Why, what even made you suggest such a thing? These are Aes Sedai we're talking about." 

     "But they will be looking over you shoulder constantly, you will never have private meetings. Why…?"

     "Oh they can come, let them send the whole fucking Tower if they want. They can follow all they please, hell if they want they can come with me when I take a piss. If they gentle all the male channelers it's no loss to Darmovan. For all Aes Sedai fake serenity I doubt they have any more patience than the rest of us. Let us see if they tire of their stay." At the wicked grin on the king's face Roland soiled himself. What madness was he thinking up?


	3. Chapter Two: Enter Davian

Disclaimer: I don't own Wheel of Time. So….we cool?

Merit Somnia: Thank you, I hope you enjoy it. So far I have 1 and a half more chapters written out, this would probably be the best as the one after the next is coming a bit weak. It may take much longer to update next time….but then again it could be quick again. 

And dammit, if I don't get some more reviews from people then I'm quitting this fic. There's no point if you won't read it and review.

* * * * *

     Davian Aenmal was a cultured man to say the least. His long black velvet coat was unembroidered, yet that seemed to make it all the finer. His loose silk undergarments and loafers matched the coat, only enhancing his appearance. Though you would think he looked a dark and imposing figure, when he smiled all worry went away. He had a large heart and a generous wallet to all. Much of his social time was spent in the company of commoners rather than nobles. For all that, he truly valued his sparse moments spent alone in the privacy of his home. Yet it was neither solitude nor the lowborn for him today. For today he had an appointment with the king.      

     Davian had been close to the ruler of Darmovan since he was a boy. The mighty house of Aenmal had been close to the royal family since before the Trolloc Wars, before there was a royal family. The custom was to have the eldest of house Aenmal serve as an advisor to the King, the two would grow up together from childhood, developing a bond. Yet through the generations the house of Aenmal slowly grew younger than the king through later marriages and pregnancies. It developed to an older-younger brother relationship, but with Davian the line of advisors broke. 

     His mother had been infertile, and as the future King grew older she still did not conceive. But almost as if a miracle she became pregnant. Nine months later he was born, but by then the future King was already fifteen, a man grown. Yet the two had a sort of Uncle/Favorite Nephew relationship. It was impossible to pry them apart. 

     And now Davian was making his way through the streets of the capitol for his weekly visit with his mentor of sorts. The palace guards did not even need to glance at him. He was the King's closest friend; if he would betray him then they could trust no one, not even the guards themselves. Davian walked through the gates and into the palace. 

     The palace of Darmovan was not exactly a palace. It would be better described as a mansion. It's handrails for the paved steps that led to the entrance protruded from the building like the arms of a sphinx. The very shape of it vaguely resembled it's head. Made of darker mixed stones and deep red brick it had a bit of far-eastern style to it. The inside was laid out uniquely; there was simply a massive straight hall when you entered. Throughout the seemingly never ending hallway there were numerous doors on either side. They led to other winding hallways, rooms for servants, emergency traps and defenses in case of a siege. But there was no upper floor to the mansion. At the end of the 'long hall' there was an arched doorway, or gate, it is difficult to tell which it comes closer to. And through that was the throne room of which Davian was just stepping through.

     The King was bellowing at some unfortunate subject. The terrified subordinate scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him just in time for a plate to smash into it, shattering to a hundred pieces. Grumbling, he turned to see Davian. The King's eyes lit up and his scowl melted away into a broad grin. 

     "Good good! I had almost forgotten you were coming, Davian! What new form of welfare would my favorite of the Aenmals introduce this week?"

     "It's not welfare, if we gave them an opportunity then—"The King snorted loudly, a rather rude interruption. He had little pity for the commoners who could not make it in life, after all it was their problems, they had every opportunity to make their way. The taxes were low and the economy was as good as could be expected. Davian knew this too, but he had always had a large heart. 'Too big for his own good' as the King had told him since he was a child. It was a rare thing for something to truly touch the ruler of Darmovan, but this could make him 'feel a woman' as he always said. 

     "I wish for just once you would watch the urchins squander your gold. They will drink too much and vandalize property. Intoxicated men and even women have been known to commit murder and not remember it the next day. You care too damn much and think too little." The king's voice was hard, but was betrayed by his sad smile and glistening eyes. He quickly grabbed a flask of ale from his garments and drank so fast it leaked out, dribbling down his chin. 

    "But my liege, they are depressed over their lack of skills; it is a difficult world we live in. You can only expect that they would make mistakes at times." The king gulped the last of the alcohol down his throat and let out a refreshed 'Aaah'. 

     "Exactly. A confident man always knows when to quit, hell even I do. But when you have nothing to lose who knows what someone will do?"

     "Truly this is a miniscule number…" 

     The King sighed heavily. "You're heart is too big for it's own good Davian, have I ever told you that?"

     "Many times, sire." 

     He sighed again, only louder than before. "Let us talk later; I want to hear a few songs on that harp of yours."

      Davian grinned widely and unhooked the straps holding his harp to his back. Many of the commoners asked him for a song, but it seemed to him that only the King truly appreciated the music. He sat down in one of the many chairs provided in the throne room. He began to pick a depressing scale up and down, a slight change in the down and up turns each time. It was a variable of D Dorian mode that has to this day never been copied. For seemingly forever the song continued, it's essence consumed you. 

     The King got a distant and faraway look in his eyes. It was his favorite of all Davian's compositions. 'The end of all' it was named. A simple title, yet it fit the mood perfectly. 

     _Someday,, it will have lyrics to make the hardest man weep _Davian had once promised.

* * * * *

     "Yes, wait just a moment then." Roland told the stunningly beautiful woman who appeared to be their leader. If it hadn't been for her red shawl he might have noticed. He closed the door behind himself and dashed through the hall to the throne room. All red! Every single one of them! At least not all of them had the face; that should give them some advantage. But arriving only three days after he himself returned….

_     Why me? _Roland wondered as he often did. 

     He opened the gate to find Davian was there, and playing his harp. He truly had the worst luck, not to mention timing. Ah well, this could not wait. 

     "My Lord," Roland addressed, his voice amazingly steady as it could be in times of crisis. The playing stopped and the haze of the song left the chamber. The King grimaced as he woke from his living dream.

   _The fairest of maidens once kissed me so sweet_

    "My Lord," He repeated. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but the Aes Sedai have arrived."


	4. Chapter Three: The arrival of the witche...

Disclaimer: See earlier pages

Hey I updated yet again. Surprised? So am I. And I even redid the entire next chapter because I was very unhappy with it. Well I hope you enjoy it. Also I changed my settings to accept anonymous reviews thanks to an email, so dammit there's no excuse not to! There may be some flaws, but I think it's overall pretty solid. 

Whitewolf: No need to apologize, yet it is nice to know people are reading and enjoying this. I'm glad you find my characters somewhat interesting, there will be several more and much more development by the end. I hope you continue to read. Also, I have noticed that they enjoy that meaningless drivel. Either that or yet another story about Nynaeve….

Merit Sonia: I'm happy you appreciated some description. It annoys me when writers on fanfiction hardly tell you anything about the appearance of objects and people, I'm all for imagination but really now. In all honesty I'm having a great time writing this fic, even if only one person reviewed I would likely still continue for my own enjoyment. 

* * * * *

     Jenna had been Aes Sedai for seventy long years now, however her ageless face and hair as rich in color as it had been in her youth made her look much younger. Young, yet wise. One must wonder why a woman as beautiful as her would choose the red shawl. Wonder, but never ask. Who would dare?

     She was a hard woman and it was no secret or dark past that made her choose the Red. She simply believed in justice for those who channeled the tainted saidin. Men were not meant to wield the One Power or the Creator would not have allowed the Dark One to foul it. It was logic and came as obvious to her yet not to others. It reminded her of how close she had come to choosing the white.

     The palace door opened and the scrawny man leaned his head out the door. 

     "The King will see you now." He said in a flat voice. A King making Aes Sedai _wait_. Was he rude or just stupid? Her lips curved downward and her brow furrowed. For an instant. A brief slip before she was returned to serenity. Jenna was about to respond when she realized he already had left the door. Judging by the rapid echoing sounds of footsteps he hadn't stayed a second more than needed.

     Daring to scowl, Jenna threw open the gates and strode through the corridor. The emissaries of the tower followed her faithfully. And so they passed through the great hall of Darmovan and entered the throne room. 

     There were twenty-six of them. Thirteen Aes Sedai and thirteen Accepted had come, enough to bring even Yurian Stormbow to his knees yet the King was undaunted. Faced with a force powerful enough to bring down nations he did not even show them proper courtesy. But Jenna had not been chosen to lead the twenty-six women just to shy away from a stiff-necked man. To the stony expression on the King's face she gave a composed smile. Let him brood over that!

     "Shall I leave, my lord?" Spoke a voice she hadn't noticed before. Mentally cursing herself, she made sure to look over the entire room.

     "Of course not, play us a song Davian." The harpist began to pluck a romantic tune as the king turned back to his guests. "Ah, Aes Sedai, I am afraid I have not met you before." His polite words and gravel voice did not match well. 

     "I am Jenna Sedai." She said firmly. 

     "Welcome, Jenna, I am surprised you have this many of your number. I would think it would take but half to scour the city and _assist_ me in governing."

     "Those without a shawl are in training, they are likely to choose the red and need to become familiar with our work."

     "You should have warned me beforehand, I have accommodations for the Aes Sedai alone. The others will have to find an inn."

     Several of the Accepted glowered, seething with rage, much of it pent up from other incidents included. At their openly showing expressions Jenna regretted bringing along inexperienced channelers. It would not be the last time. 

     "They shall have no trouble with it."

     "Very well, Roland will show you to your own quarters. Which of your number will be staying with me?"

     Jenna motioned and three Accepted with two Aes Sedai walked to the throne. The king raised an eyebrow.

     "I'm surprised you trust me so much." He said dryly.

     "They need the experience."

     "Indeed. A question, if I may Aes Sedai?"

     "Certainly." _Don't let him see your emotions. Don't let him see you're nervous. _

     "How do you propose to catch the men? From what I hear you cannot sense their 'saidin'."

     At this Jenna did permit herself a true smile. She produced a small rod, four valuable jewels set in it, an emerald, ruby, sapphire, and a diamond. They were all encased in an ultra-thin layer of glass. Or at least, it looked like glass. 

     "I see you have your scepter for when you become a queen, yet I see nothing else."

     "This is no scepter." _Insolent man. "It is a ter'angreal. It was found very recently along with eight others. With this, we will detect saidin from up to miles away, depending on how much channeling is going on. A stone will light up to indicate the direction it is from, Sapphire for north, ruby for south, emerald for west, and diamond for east." Her eyes were cold as ice._

     "When the minstrels and gleemen tell of the end of the male channeler, they will say it began today." Jenna concluded. With another wave of her hand she walked to Roland and followed him, exiting the room as he scampered off in the lead. The rest of the women left with her. 

* * * * *

     The last of the other Aes Sedai were gone, leaving only five women with the king. He forced himself not to grin as Davian left and the next appointment entered, slightly early. 

_     They didn't notice the music. How hard must you concentrate to not quiver in your own ire witches? It seems you have lost the first round of Daes Dae'mar. But would you cheat to prevail in a game of your own making?_

* * * * *

     Takum forced himself along the capitol, trying to find out what all the ruckus was about. He had resorted to asking but most of them were as clueless as he. And so he pushed, shoved, and maneuvered his way through the crowds until he met a point near the front that just wouldn't budge. 

     "What's the problem sonny?" Takum turned to find a man who looked so old he was supposed to have died two times over. He was bucktoothed, or at least was until half of his teeth fell out.

     "Well I couldn't help but notice the massive crowds of people gathering outside the palace." Takum's sarcasm was lost on the elderly. 

     "Where the hell have you been for the past week? Everyone knows that Aes Sedai have come gentle all the men!" 

     Takum's eyes widened at that comment. He would have to be more careful when channeling from now on.


	5. Chapter Four: The freedom to channel

Disclaimer: See Chapter Three

Thanks to all to continue to read this mildly interesting fanfic. I apologize it took a bit longer this time but I've been busy. 

Ilona1: So would I. And thank you for the compliment, did you get my email as well? I was curious because you never replied. 

ckk: No, there are no cities that allow men to channel. Nowhere. 

White-wolf2: Thanks to you as well, I always try my best to give the chapter a good ending line. I think it may be one of the few things I don't screw up when I write. Also, heh, I always thought it a bit absurd at Jordan's unique curses. I will of course use them occasionally, but I prefer to mix them with actual swears, it makes a nice blend. Experienced? Written a novel? As I said in the introduction, all my ability comes from RPs. The only novel I'm working on is one for the amusement of me and a few friends, in fact it's what usually slows down the production of chapters for this fic. 

* * * * *

     Davian balanced his harp on one knee. As usual, a rabble of commoners had gathered around him. He began with a series of chords. Each one seeming to linger continuously though the strings moved on to different combinations. The common folk were whisked away from the humdrum of routine. Their troubles dissolved away into nothingness. Davian's songs had no words yet, but the rhythm and melody were enough to give it a force powerful enough to carry the song all on their own. And so he played.

* * * * *

     It sometimes seemed that the Creator had created a mold one day, and into it he poured everything that was, no matter how contradictory. Kindness and cruelty, luck and misfortune, mirth and sorrow, cunning and stupidity, devotion and betrayal, truth and lies, courage and cowardice, the handsome and the hideous, all these were Takum and more.

     Some say that these would balance out. This is irrational, and has no factual basis. If you poured water over a block of solid steel, would they blend together? In reality it makes for a highly unstable combination. At the gravest insult to his character he may laugh it off, but a minor slight another day and he may beat you until you quit breathing. Or maybe that was the madness of the taint. Takum wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore. 

     He had been channeling since thirteen, from the beginning of puberty. He had the ability inborn, the curse of his name. He both hated and loved saidin, the conflicting views matched him. He laughed bitterly over it many a time, a joke he shared only with himself. Everything was kept to himself, it made a man as sick as the taint could after so many years.

     Takum was thirty odd years old, yet his strong capability with the power delayed his aging greatly. A scratchy and somewhat stained black coat covered much of his body. Underneath his garments were cotton, a surprisingly clean white. His skin was that of a Caucasian, his eyes were cornflower blue. The light danced on them magically to the serenade of the sun. He had a clean shaven face. There was nothing that stood out immediately from Takum, and then you noticed his smile. Perhaps there had always been a hint of madness in him, even before he wielded the power. His smile was crooked and malicious, his parents thought the man who birthed him was a darkfriend, and that he cursed their child. Because of this oddity, he never smiled. Though his face was always solemn, you could occasionally see an upward curve of his lips. A demonic smile. 

     He lived in a small home now. It was a hut really, it's ceiling was short, the entire hovel was a perfect little cube. Quaint, some might call it. Takum on the other hand was pessimistic, he abhorred it. One room, and it wasn't exactly that big. But there was an important reason why he kept it. It was safe. The brick was thick and the mortar strong. There were four ways in, so whatever direction he came from he could immediately slip inside. The floorboards led to a small cellar in the downstairs, and if someone actually managed to notice which wood piece was loose they would still find that the cellar connected with the caverns the city was built upon. And once under the city there was freedom, the caves led everywhere. Even out of the country if you knew the ways, and Takum knew all the ways. But freedom to leave was not the only liberty in the underground, there was the freedom to quench the thirst for saidin. 

     And that was precisely why he was here now. It had been a little over a year ago when he finally admitted to himself that he was addicted to the True Source. He had denied it, even when the voice in his head screamed it at him till he was hoarse. But Takum could not tell himself it was fine when he actually simply gripped saidin in public without cause. It was only after the shock of sensing someone else nearby holding the male half of the True Source that stopped him from taking in too much. Sadly he never found that person, he had not fully let go, there was an explosion of unguided saidin and he had ran into the sewers from fear of someone realizing it was him who made it. 

     Takum looked around the vast caves before smiling. He was alone at last. With that the void came almost unbidden into his mind. He drew on saidin and the voice in his head let out a relieved sigh. Now he could slake his desire without fear, the Aes Sedai couldn't sense saidin last time he checked.

* * * * *

     It had been one week since Jenna had first met the king. It was certainly not a long time, but she was disappointed with her lack of progress. They had detected saidin numerous times, yet there was nothing to be found. It was either too faint or far away, and she could swear Darmovan's king never even learned what the word cooperation meant. The Accepted and Aes Sedai alike had done little to influence the king's decisions. It made her almost wish they had brought some grays with them. Almost. 

     She was in control of the circle of thirteen, they were all powerful channelers. The day had just begun yet under the current situations she saw no reason for all of the thirteen to be together. She was about to give the order for them to disperse when the ter'angreal's emerald lit up. 


	6. Chapter Five: Dark omens and dark times

Disclaimer: See previous chapter

EvilSquirrelScientist: _ _ I suppose it will have to remain below almost perfect. And update your story, it's easily the best I have ever seen on WoT. 

White-Wolf2: Thank you, I attempt to give my characters buildup instead of just throwing them into tense situations expecting people to care. I hope you will continue to look forward to my chapters, not to mention reading and reviewing. 

Ilona1: Ah, this time I got your reply, thank you for understanding. Takum is the name I always used for my characters in RPs, in fact most everything for his character is based off my "RP Takum" except that this one will be less.disturbing. And about the channeling, I had thought Rand was quite young, around 14 when the series started and he already had supposedly been channeling for some time. Perhaps I am wrong though.

Sorry for the how long it took to update but I've been very busy with a few rather unimportant things, including a clichéd novel, a custom warcraft map, and reading. Enjoy, it may take some time for the next part as well. Continue reviewing, it's the only thing that inspires me to write more semi-chapters. 

* * * * *

     King Dremko of Nerevan was a more pleasant person that most. He was ever polite and courteous. His people loved him not only as their liege, but also as a friend. Do not expect him to be closed minded but do not believe he would sway to your beliefs with a few honeyed words. He was comely as well, his golden hair and soft brown eyes you could drown him would woo any woman in his realm, or another for that matter. Nonetheless, the curse of time is upon to all. Allistar Dremko was thirty-six years of age, and his wear was just beginning to show. The once rich black hair was now adorned with strands of gray. His eyes and mouth edges were creased with smile lines. But with age came wisdom, of which the King of Nerevan never lacked. 

     He had once been a cheerier person, most notably during the time he was married to his 'flower of my heart', the lady Olivia. They had married when he was of twenty-three years old. She had been nineteen. For the next six years he had been happiest man in the world, upon her death at the tender age of twenty-five a sadness had overcome him. He was every bit as sensitive and intelligent as before, but a depression hung on him and it had never left. The commoners shared his grief as well, for they loved their queen as much as they loved their king. But as they moved on the shadow of Olivia's death lingered over Allistar. 

     King Dremko was also known as the 'Commoner's King' as a mockery of his people's love for him. Others used it to honor him. He took it as the latter. He was a responsible spender and did not waste the treasury on luxuries for himself. The very palace of Nerevan proved it. When he had become King it was of solid gold and was brimming with extravagances. He had it melted down and exported much of the gaudy decorations. He erected a new palace in its place, identical in structure except for a tiny difference. It was not gold, but gilded steel. Steel construction, who but Allistar would have found a way to pull it off? 

     Yet at the moment he was not in his palace. He instead stood outdoors, the chill of winter was waning but Nerevan always had late summers. The icy wind bit through even his warm furs. The gray sky echoed the mood of the onlookers as fifty-eight men were led up to the wooden platform to be hung. A mass execution had not been performed for many a year in the nation. But these were the worst society had to offer. They were murderers, rapists, and darkfriends. All of them from the capitol, it was a dark omen for them. Dark omens for dark times. It was said the White Tower was sending their so-called advisors to Darmovan, perhaps they had already arrived. Other countries would follow accordingly. Perhaps Tar Valon was worried over something, and that worried Allistar. 

     The nooses were fixed around the necks of the felons. Some sneered, others broke down whimpering like children, crying for their family. A few began praying so fast it ran together into an incoherent slur. 

     "By the word of the King you are sentenced to die." said the executioner, hard and unforgiving. "Do you have any last words?" 

     Their responses varied from cursing King Dremko to making a desperate last plead for mercy. 

     _This is the world we live in _Allistar marveled.

     The planks dropped followed by numerous snaps. He could hear a few of the unfortunate men choking, the ropes hadn't broken their necks. The crowd waited for another ten minutes before all went silent. Allistar bowed his head and his bodyguards led him back to the palace. The Commoners' King needing a bodyguard, a dark omen for a dark time.

* * * * *

     Emma was on the verge of tears. No matter how hard she tried the King of Darmovan wouldn't listen to her! Oh sure he nodded his head and waited until she finished but he never even acted on a single one of her propositions. The other Accepted had troubles too, but they were all so good at controlling their emotions. She, on the other hand, tended to be far too outright. Despite this, her strength in the power allowed her to become one of the youngest Accepted ever, at twenty-four years old. 

     She was able to take some comfort in that the Aes Sedai had done little more. They had pressured him into making a few concessions to assure the others were free to search the entire capitol, and later the entire country. Somehow despite the King's seeming reluctance Emma suspected he already had planned to allow them that beforehand. 

    "And that, Emma, is why we cannot trust you to take anymore control in this. It would be better if you watch and learn." 

     "Yes, Irene Sedai." Emma bit her lip. _I will not cry I will not cry. _

     "Good. Then perhaps you will rejoin us in a few weeks or months." Irene cupped her chin and smiled into her eyes. "Don't be sad dear, you are awful young to be even Accepted, you should be patient before doing a Sister's work. We will loosen the man up more, then maybe it will be easier on you." Irene strolled away. She sometimes acted nice, but for her kind words she was every bit as strict as the rest of the Tower. Emma wanted to shout that she wasn't doing any better than herself, that she could be every bit an Aes Sedai as her. But for once she held her tongue. 

* * * * *

     "I will not line up the men and have you probe their very being." The King said for the hundredth time. 

     "But everything would go so much smoother. I and my fellow Sisters could be out as soon as the next week." 

     "You are Aes Sedai, you can do your work without having me arrange everything to suit your perfect situation. Make do with the resources you have." 

     Irene pursed her lips together. He was not deceived by her temptations of them leaving. Alas, he was not a fool of a king. Darmovan's line was sensible enough to ally themselves with Tar Valon in the first place, and they were as shrewd as ever. If Emma was only not so open with her emotions they might still have the upper hand. Burn that impulsive girl. 

     "As you wish."   
     The king snorted at her and took a swig of ale. He was the only king known to carry around a flask of liquor with him wherever he went. Despite this, Irene had never seen him drunk. It surprised her, along with his lack of a beerbelly. Still, he could use a shave badly. 

    "As I wish indeed. Roland, let in the next appointment." He ordered. The wiry little man's head bobbed up and down and he opened the door for the Prince of Basharande, greatest of the three borderlands. 

* * * * *

     Roland opened the door and bowed as Prince Jeremiah Dremanaka entered the room, flanked by six bodyguards. He was a prince now, but not for long. His father was a sickly man at fifty-five. It was only a matter of time until he inherited the throne. He was the only son, and was ever careful to not die until he had an heir. The royal families were paranoid over dying without someone to succeed them. And after that? Well, the borderlanders were an odd folk, loose cannons they were.         

     "Welcome, young Prince. It is an honor to have you in our halls." The king said cordially. 

     "The honor is mine, great King. May Darmovan prosper." The formal greeting completed the King stepped down from his throne of iron and gold. 

      "Shall we take our discussion elsewhere, young Prince?" The Accepted fidgeted but otherwise made no sound. One of the three frowned deeply, the Aes Sedai replied coolly but sternly. "It would be best if we accompany you. You will need our advice." The words were an order. 

     "Instructions on how to dine with a friend? I promise you my experience shall be quite adequate for that." Her mouth twisted at the reproach. Roland's king never lost his poise. 

     "We will accompany you." She repeated. The king hesitated, and then nodded in agreement. There was an almost unnoticeable look between Prince Dremanaka and the king. Almost, but Roland was trained to notice these things. It was part of his job. The self-pity just was an added bonus. 

     _Why must you pick a fight with an Aes Sedai you thoughtless king? _

* * * * *

     Prince Jeremiah Dremanaka was perhaps the only person in the world who could read the emotions of Darmovan's King. They could not keep in touch as often as they once had, yet he still knew the king. They had become close when he had ascended to the throne. They were but a few years apart in age. Their conversations had been long and informative for both sides, he had learned more from the king than he had from his own father. And though others such as the eldest Aenmal may be able to bring out his emotions in the open, no one but him could read them. 

     And so upon seeing the Aes Sedai looking over his shoulder like hawks he immediately knew the king would be planning on getting them away with any ability he had. The past hour and a half he had been discussing the most pointless subjects and making the bawdiest of jokes with him. The witches showed no sign of impatience, but when the apparent leading one said "I will make tomorrow's arrangements" the Prince knew they were victorious. 

     "You should not anger them so, I cannot die yet, not without an heir." Jeremiah lectured as the footsteps of the Aes Sedai faded out of earshot. 

     "Your lady is still without child?" 

     The Prince nodded grimly and took a long, deep drink from his wine goblet. 

     "We've continued trying, every midwife in the borderlands has done business with us. But.we still have a few more years left. Ten if we're lucky." He drank deeper. "So tell me, why are you surrounded by Aes Sedai? The last I heard you had a backbone to refuse such a request." 

     The king scoffed at that. "An Aes Sedai's request is as good as an order from any normal man, or woman in this case." 

     "So then you allow them control over you and your country?" 

     No one but the Prince would have noticed the subtle smirk on the king's face. Such a light unwanted adjustment of his features you would think he was a stone. 

     "Of course, young Prince, have I not always been ever complacent?" His eyes glimmered with the spark of mischief. The Prince returned it with a smile. 

     "Tell me." 

* * * * *

    "He should be within a few feet." Jenna stated, her clear and commanding voice lowered to but a whisper. They had to hold saidar to hear her. There were rumors and even channelers who said when holding saidin your senses became enhanced as with saidar, she doubted that but Jenna refused to take needless chances. She worried he had seen them, but to channel so much he was likely concentrating too hard. 

     The thirteen had made their way across the town, the commoners and lords alike parted for them. Their chase had led them to a deserted shack. It was inconveniently small, especially for thirteen fully grown women. As far as they detected, no one was in the building. But who knew what the filthy work of the dark one could do?

     The emerald shined so brightly it resembled a second sun. Jenna took another step forward and the light changed, the diamond glowed now. She frowned and took a step another direction. The Sapphire lit up, another direction and the ruby.

     "Shield, I'm going to see if there is a lower level." And barely pausing a moment she channeled a mix of earth, air, and water. The result was an immense blast, much like catapulting the floor. Chips of wood scattered across the room, but all they were mixed with were clumps of dirt. _But he is here! Where else could he be? _And then it came to her. 

     "Quea," Jenna addressed the only Accepted in her group. "I want you to return to the palace and find out what this city was built on." 


End file.
